


Crystalised

by coloursflyaway



Category: Thor (2011) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For hiddlesworthorkiprompts on Tumblr: Tom teaches Chris how to dance</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystalised

It’s the first clear night after three days of constant rain and Tom is sitting on the sofa, incredulity shining in wide, blue eyes. The moon is bright, so bright that a small lamp in the back of the room is enough to illuminate it and when he looks closely, he can even make out the tiny wrinkles around the other’s eyes. They’re in his trailer because when they finally wrapped up the last shoot it had been far too late to go back to the hotel when they have to be here again at the break of dawn and there was no reason to be alone, knowing that a few metres away there was a friend in the same position. For that is what they are, friends, and the word makes something in Tom’s chest flutter.

  
‘You want me to teach you how to dance’, he repeats the Australian’s words, trying very hard to ignore that the thing which is strangest about the request is how it doesn’t sound very strange at all. Chris only nods, blonde hair falling into his eyes and Tom asks, ‘Why?’  
The other shrugs –gracefully, for everything Chris does is done with a certain grace and if it is to trip over his own feet- and his voice is light and a little bit distant when he speaks. ‘Don’t know. Elsa’s been nagging me for months to do it and I thought I might be a nice present for her when I come back home… and I don’t exactly have the time to take a course or anything around here.’ He looks up at Tom and for one second the Brit catches himself wondering how Chris can look so completely unlike Thor when off set and yet not a bit less impressive. ‘You can dance, can’t you?’  
It’s Tom’s turn to shrug. ‘I do alright, I guess. But I always thought after Dancing With The Stars you would be the one to go to , not me.’

  
The other chuckles and there’s both amusement and embarrassment in the sound, his eyes crinkling up in a way which Tom has never seen before, not on Chris nor on anyone else. Somehow, it is beyond stunning and maybe, the Brit thinks, the stories about the full moon changing people are true for this is not his usual way of thinking. ‘Nah, they only teach you the fancy stuff there’, Chris answers, waving a hand dismissively, ‘Pirouettes and dips and how to lift your partner up, but never just the usual, boring basics. So, help me out?’  
Tom takes a second to think –why exactly he will never know- before nodding. In the back of his head, there's a voice telling him that this is not a very good idea at all, but Tom chooses to ignore it. After all, this is only what Chris said it is: Helping out a friend and surely there is nothing wrong with that.  
He gets up, chuckling slightly as the other looks at him with a blank expression. 'I can't very well teach you while we're on the sofa, can I?', he says lightly, holding out a hand without even noticing the implications this gesture brings with it. It takes another moment for the expression on Chris' face to change, a grin tugging at full lips as the Australian takes his hand, wrapping strong fingers around Tom's slender ones.

  
'I suppose that would be difficult', Chris agrees and turns so he is standing directly in front of him, looking down with bright blue eyes. Maybe it should be threatening, probably uncomfortable, but around the other Tom has never felt anything less than at ease. Keeping their hands entwined, he raises his arm, pointedly looking down at Chris' other one before placing a hand on the Australian’s shoulder. Obviously, it is too late or his colleague is just too tired because it takes him another few seconds to gather what Tom wants him to do and even longer before a large hand is splayed across the side of his waist. The weight is unfamiliar, almost awkward, but he wiggles a bit under Chris' touch until the hand moves down a little, making it feel more like an embrace than a formal stance.  
And suddenly, he does not know what to do. Or rather, where to begin and as seconds tick by, he can feel the tension building between them, Chris' body radiating warmth which he has never been aware of until now. 'Well...', he starts clumsily , already cursing himself for saying yes. 'How about we start with a slow waltz?'

  
It's the first thing he can think of, really, and the other nods mutely, his breath washing over the side of Tom's face. And somehow, it is only now that the Brit realises how intimate the position they are in really is, how this has to look. Blood rushes to his cheeks and he averts his eyes, looking down to their feet which are awfully close to each other. 'Just try to follow my movements', he says softly and steps to his right, watching Chris' feet following. A pause, then Tom moves his foot to the front, feeling the other’s breath stir his hair as he chuckles. They move to the right without any sense of rhythm, of elegance, before Tom uses the hand he still has on Chris’ shoulder to pull the other towards him as he steps back.  
Obviously, he uses far too much force, for Chris tumbles forwards until Tom’s own body stops him, their chests pressed together, the Australian’s left feet planted between his own. And he leans back and looks at the other, a mistake because the moon is bright and its light makes Chris gleam, all silvery-gold hair and blue eyes, his lashes casting dark shadows over his cheekbones. Tom’s breath hitches in his throat and oh, this is not good at all.  
But then the other smiles and he can’t bring himself to care.

  
‘I don’t think this is the right way to woo ladies’, he quips, smiling right back at Chris and the Australian laughs and straightens up. He moves away, yes, but never as far as he once was and Tom finds that he does not mind at all. ‘Again?’, he asks and his heart speeds up ever so slightly as Chris nods.  
Because of some reason Tom can’t determine it gets easier after that, and slowly they are finding a rhythm of their own, turning and swaying in the cramped room of Tom’s trailer. Neither of them speaks, simply because there are no words needed, not when Chris is pulling him closer with every step he takes back and Tom’s hand is sliding from the Australian’s shoulder to the place where his shoulder meets his neck, the pad of his thumb dragging across bare skin ever so often.  
It’s wonderful and somehow Tom has missed the moment when this went from teaching to dancing.

  
Chris’ movements grow firmer, more secure and it is almost too easy for Tom to slide into the submissive role, allowing the other to take the lead. Maybe it has to do with the fact that right now, he would do everything if he could just stop himself from thinking altogether, to silence the voice in the back of his head asking what the hell he is doing, what they are doing.  
Large hands drag him closer and the Australian chuckles, the sound strangely breathy as Tom complies easily, shortening the distance between them by another inch or two. By now, he can feel it against his skin when Chris exhales, only faintly, but it is enough to make blood rush to his cheeks, for his heart to speed up its beating. ‘You are doing fine’, he says suddenly, trying to somehow remind himself that this is only teaching the other, for the sake of his wife of all things. That this is Chris and that Chris should not make his breath hitch and his guts clench in anticipation.  
‘I have a good teacher’, comes the answer and there is some message hidden in the other man’s tone which Tom does not want to decipher at all. He does not know how to answer so he say nothing, only keeps his gaze fixed on his colleague’s face as Chris speeds up their movements with more ease than he should possess, changing the rhythm of their dance from languid to something more passionate and intimate. Maybe, Tom thinks as he lets the other twirl them around, he should have put on some music, but now it’s too late for even if he wanted to leave Chris’ arms, he doesn’t think he could. And really, there is no song he could think of fitting better to this than the sometimes still-clumsy dragging of their feet, the creaking of the floor, their shared breaths.

  
The moonlight catches in Chris’ eyes, making them glow as a small smirk spreads across his face. ‘Do you want me to show you what they taught me at Dancing With The Stars?’, he asks, with a mischievous tone which would be more fitting for Loki than for Thor and Tom nods because there is nothing else to do. There is a subtle shift in the way Chris holds him, and then the other takes a step forward, catching him off guard. He moves back without thinking, or at least tries to, the Australian’s left foot hiked around his own making him lose his balance. For a second, Tom expects to hit the ground, but then Chris’s hand on his back is steadying him, dragging him back against a broad chest in a circular motion which leaves his head spinning. Chris’ face is slightly out of focus, but his eyes are clear and filled with a question Tom can neither understand nor answer. They share a breath and then Chris tilts his head ever so slightly, both invitation and asking for permission and as Tom holds his gaze as steadily as he can manage to, he leans in, full lips pressing against Tom’s thin ones.

  
The kiss lasts only a few moments, soft and tentative but when the other pulls back, his touch lingers. There is silence and it is only after a second Tom dares to exhale, knowing that Chris will feel his breath on his skin. ‘I didn’t know’, he says and isn’t sure whom he is talking about.  
The other looks at him as if of all the things he could have said, this was the one the Australian did not expect. Tom breathes out another time and feels incredibly dumb because he is supposed to be the clever one and yet he has managed to miss something so important. His lips are slightly wet with what he knows is not his saliva, reminding him of Chris’ proximity with every passing second.  
They still haven’t stopped dancing.

  
‘And I thought I was being so obvious…’, the other says after a pause and Tom shakes his head before answering, ‘But I didn’t know about me either.’  
There is a sudden change in Chris’ posture, his body stiffening, his feet missing a beat of their imagined tune. What expression is flitting over his features is not fear but it is not far from it either and Tom wants nothing more than to make it disappear. ‘Does that…’ Chris starts, his voice too thin, too uncertain to sound right and the Brit understands what he wants to say without him finishing the sentence.  
‘Yes’, he replies softly and Chris misunderstands. It’s easy to sense for his grasp on Tom’s hand loosens and his eyes go dull and lifeless in the matter of a moment or two and it hurts more than he would have guessed. And Tom moves his hand from the hem of Chris shirt to cup the back of his head, pulling him closer to capture his lips once more.  
If this is a kiss, then what they have shared before was nothing more than a brush of lips, for this is passion, affection and just the hint of a promise all flowing together and it is perfect, or at least as close to perfection as it can get.

  
When they break apart, Chris’ lips are red and his eyes are twinkling again, lighting up even more as Tom lets his head sink down to rest on the other’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. ‘It does change everything’, Tom says softly as they turn and sway in the cramped room of his trailer and Chris nods and pulls him closer still.


End file.
